Eyeless Jack Origins
by Silvyia
Summary: (So apparently there isn't a Creepypasta option here. I hope "Mythology" works as well. Anyway-) We all know of Eyeless Jack, a famous Creepypasta, by now. He's all over the internet, actually. But does anyone know how he was actually created? How he BECAME Eyeless Jack? No? Well, I do. And I'm here to share it with you. Rated M for gore and swearing.


((Author's Note: We all know about Eyeless Jack by now, seeing as he is one of the more popular Creepypasta's out there, eh? Well, I've never known anything about his past, or about how he came to be. I made my own past for him. This is complete fan work, it's not canon(if there even is a canon history for him). Enjoy!))

Jackson Rose.

He had always been a fairly popular guy, wooing the ladies and befriending the jocks at school. Nobody could really blame him, though. It were as if he was born with the perfect genes. Light wavy chestnut brown hair sat atop his head, his eyes a bright baby blue, accompanied by a beaming smile, with dimples, of course. He was a lean guy, not too skinny, not too broad, tall enough to make the kids jealous. As I said- perfect genes, right?

Though it wasn't only his physical attributes that made him so popular in high school. He was smart, too- got almost straight A's every semester, never turned anything in late- classic teacher pet. And the smooth talking. God, the smooth talking. He could get anything he wanted his looks and his voice. He was a kind kid, he helped people with their homework when they needed it, he shared his lunch, he played sports with the other kids, everything everyone could ever dream of, all in one teenage body.

Unfortunately, his looks didn't help him as much as it hurt him. There was jealousy everywhere, but that is to be expected from young kids. They all thought about getting back to him, per say, for how he was born. How perfect he was. They wanted to ruin his perfect streak in life. Nobody ever actually did it, though, they were only ever dreams born of envy and greed.

A few, though, actually had the galls to go through with it. One group of bullies from his school, particularly nasty kids, they were.

Jackson was walking home from school one day, his bike had broken down the other day and it was still in the shop. He was fine with it, though, the sky was beautiful today. What little clouds were in the sky were a bright, whisky white that swirled in marvelous shapes and patterns. It was a warm day, almost too warm for the dark blue hoody and black jeans he was wearing. He smiled as he walked, occasionally looking forward to make sure he didn't run into anyone. He was too slow, though, to notice the kids hiding behind the corner, ready to take him away in a moments' notice. As soon as he had rounded the corner, a hand was placed over his mouth, effectively hiding the gasp of surprise he let out. Another pair of hands pulled him back when he began struggling. He dropped his phone in the process, and one of the kids kicked it away. They pulled him back into an alleyway, and his eyes were covered as they dragged him elsewhere.

When they uncovered his eyes, he blinked for a moment to adjust to the darkness of the room. He was in a warehouse. The unnamed teenagers pushed him forward, and he stumbled. He wasn't quick enough, however, and landed on his hands, just barely managing to catch himself before he broke his nose on the pavement. A shoe connected to his side, and he coughed in pain as he was kicked onto his back.

Jackson's eyes widened when he finally saw his attackers. One of the kids, seeming to be the leader of the pack, sat, straddling Jack to get closer to him. The other two kids came to his side and held down his arms before Jack could strike at the boy.

"Well, well, well," he began, reaching into his back pocket and bringing something out. He fiddled with it as he talked. "Here we have Mr. Perfect, eh?" The two kids to his sides snickered at the name, and Jack winced as he realized what the boy atop his was twirling between his fingers. A surgical scalpel. Where had he even gotten that?

"I was going to bring something bigger, maybe one of those butcher knives, but I couldn't sneak that outta the house," he mumbled. "Good thing my pop's a doctor, though, huh?" He said in a false cheery voice, and Jack questioned the sanity of the boy. The room was quiet for a moment, save for Jack's uneven breathing as he waited for the boys to make a move. Then, the leader of the trio began talking again.

"Say, Jackie," he inwardly groaned at the nickname, "What's your favorite holiday?" At this, Jack froze. What?

"Y'know what mine is?" He asked absentmindedly, flicking the scalpel back and forth. He leaned forward slightly, putting pressure on Jack's stomach. He tried to calm his breathing. "Halloween," the boy answered his own question. "And you know what my favorite part of it is?" He asked in a quiet voice, leaning down lower, placing the scalpel on Jack's stomach. Jack sucked in it stomach, trying to get away from the sharp blade.

The teenager pushed the blade down, breaking the skin and drawing blood, as he answered his own question once more.

"Carving the pumpkin."

Jack whimpered. The kid grinned, cackling madly in the dim lighting.

"Hey, boys," the boy began, looking toward his two henchmen. "What's the first step of 'at, eh?" The two kids looked between each other warily. Jack could see that they were beginning to think this was a mistake.

"Carving out the guts, obviously!" He answered, angry that nobody had answered him. So, without looking back down at the squirming boy beneath him, he brought down the scalpel as hard as he could, and Jack's eyes widened as the white hot pain shot through his body.

He screamed.

He screamed when the boy cut his stomach open, digging around with his hands. He screamed when the kid tore something out.

"The fuck is this?" He asked, looking at the bloodied organ. Jack could see what it was, as the information from his health class came to him. His kidney. The kid had ripped out his left kidney. The boy shrugged, throwing it to the side, narrowly missing his two helpers, who's eyes were wide in shock. They had definitely gone too far, and they knew that.

"Then," the leader began again, done with part one. "We carve the face," he whispered in a low voice, looking at Jack as he spoke, a wild light appearing behind his eyes.

Jack screamed in pain when the boy began cutting out his right eye. He screamed when the two helpers ran, scared out of their teenage minds, cursing on the way out. His voice had gone hoarse by the time the boy above him cut out the second eye, his left eye. He lay there now, mouth open in a silent scream, body too tired and numb to move, to try to get free.

The boy seemed to be done with him anyway, as he realized his 'friends' had run. He cursed. "Fuckers. God damn it, how the hell am I supposed to clean this up myself?" He sniffed, and looked at Jack's still form. He was breathing still, but slowly. The kid smiled in satisfaction. He got up, then, and three the scalpel down, done with it. It landed on his stomach, bloodied and chipped.

"Y'know what they do in hospitals, when they need to disinfect somethin'?" Jack could barely hear him, his voice fading in and out. Even in his half conscious state, he knew what was to come next.

"They burn 'em."

The boy brought out a lighter, lighting it with a flick of his thumb.

"Usually they do it in a pot of boiled water, but I don't got one of those, so we'll have to do with this." And with that, he dropped the lighter to the ground. With no gasoline to ignite it, the fire spread slowly over Jack's body, burning him in the slowest, most agonizing way imaginable.

The boy left, smiling at his masterpiece. Now he's gotta hunt down those two idiots and make sure they don't tell anyone about what they did.

After the boy closed the doors to the warehouse, ensuring nobody would find Jack's body for a long time, Jack cried. His tears were soaked in red from the corners of his eyes- or where his eyes should have been- and he was sure they simply disappeared due to the fire, but he cried. He cried silent tears as the black enveloped him, and he lay still, the fire dissipating on its' own.

All was silent.

Jack was dead. He had died a slow, painful death, alone. He died alone and scared. He died, asking what he had done to deserve this.

All was silent.

Then his hand twitched.

((Author's note: remember, this is just fan work! Not canon! Also, comment if I should make a part two, where he gets his revenge, and how he wakes up and truly becomes THE Eyeless Jack! Thanks for reading!)) 


End file.
